


if i fell (don't run and hide)

by friarlucas (authorisasauthordoes)



Series: girl meets world band au [2]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 11:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorisasauthordoes/pseuds/friarlucas
Summary: The past few months had been a change of pace for all of them, as with Charlie gone they weren’t quite sure where they wanted to go next. Dave’s leg injury put any sort of grand journey on hold, so they spent a lot of time at the studio, experimenting with sound and adding new covers to their repertoire. In the evenings, they’d play gigs at smaller venues, nightclubs and hole-in-the-wall music halls where the music is important, not the fame. Ultimately, they’re taking the time to find themselves, which hopefully will point them towards the next step.Farkle has never looked more content. He actually smiles now, real, relaxed grins as he’s strumming the base and exchanging quips with Zay. Dave, still in a boot but no longer in a cast, works on sharpening his already impressive guitar skills and bouncing in his chair while they play. It’s obvious that he wants desperately to be up and jumping around with Zay, who puts all of his soul into every performance he does—even if it’s just for Maya, Riley, and Smackle at the studio.They’re all a hoot to watch, but for whatever reason, Riley can never seem to take her eyes off the drums.





	if i fell (don't run and hide)

Watching the band play in the studio is one of Riley’s favorite hobbies.

She likes the polished, completed sound of their albums and she likes watching them play live, but there’s something about the atmosphere of the studio that she really cherishes. They’re close, they’re personal, they’re imperfect and experimental and real when they’re messing around in the workroom. There’s an energy of creativity, a feeling of innovation and collaboration that she’s obsessed with when she gets to hang out with them.

Maya usually comes with her, but her pop idol best friend is often up and dancing around with the boys, offering suggestions and jamming to the music. Riley and Smackle are the ones who stay seated together on the leather couch crammed into the corner of the room, wrapped up in quilts and cheering their talented friends on. In some ways, they’re just another piece of clutter in the small, disorganized space, but she doesn’t mind it. She likes how cozy it is, how appreciated and loved the studio feels. The boys practically live there considering how often they’re trying out new sounds and jamming together, and if she had the means she’d probably want to live there too.

The past few months had been a change of pace for all of them, as with Charlie gone they weren’t quite sure where they wanted to go next. Dave’s leg injury put any sort of grand journey on hold, so they spent a lot of time at the studio, experimenting with sound and adding new covers to their repertoire. In the evenings, they’d play gigs at smaller venues, nightclubs and hole-in-the-wall music halls where the music is important, not the fame. Ultimately, they’re taking the time to find themselves, which hopefully will point them towards the next step.

Farkle has never looked more content. He actually smiles now, real, relaxed grins as he’s strumming the base and exchanging quips with Zay. Dave, still in a boot but no longer in a cast, works on sharpening his already impressive guitar skills and bouncing in his chair while they play. It’s obvious that he wants desperately to be up and jumping around with Zay, who puts all of his soul into every performance he does—even if it’s just for Maya, Riley, and Smackle at the studio.

They’re all a hoot to watch, but for whatever reason, Riley can never seem to take her eyes off the drums.

Lucas isn’t a particularly showy performer, but he always looks like he’s having a good time when he’s sitting at the drum kit. He’s got an easy smile on his lips and is always nodding his head slightly, dancing along with the rest of the group in whatever way he can.

One of Riley’s favorite things is when Zay or Farkle (or Dave, when he’s not temporarily disabled) will wander over to the drums and interact with him while playing, as it gives Lucas a chance to be silly and participate in the showmanship more than he usually does. Zay’s been very teasing with him this evening considering it’s his birthday, making weird faces at him and trying to mess up his drumming.

No matter how hard he tries, Zay isn’t able to fake Lucas out. He’s an expert at keeping the beat, and Riley still can’t believe how effortless he makes it look. Drumsticks just belong in his hands. When she listens to _Mr. Perfect,_ she has to remind herself that Lucas actually made the track himself, that the mind-blowing drumming is real and he’s capable of it and she actually witnessed him perform it.

In a lot of ways, she just can’t believe Lucas Friar is real.

The band finishes running through a cover song for the second time, and Zay convenes with Maya to get feedback and decide if they should try another one or end early for the evening in preparation for celebrating Lucas’s birthday. Smackle gets up from next to Riley and joins Farkle eagerly, earning a smile from him as he reaches out to pull her onto his lap.

Riley rises to her feet as well, wandering over to the drums and hitting the cymbal closest to her. Lucas jumps lightly in surprise and she giggles, giving him a teasing smile as he locks eyes with her. “Zoning out, mad dog?”

He scoffs, twirling his drumstick in his fingers. A weird shot of adrenaline runs through her—it’s a feeling she’s had many times around him before that she doesn’t understand at all. She’s pretty sure it’s his fault, though. “Me? Zoned out? I’m an artist, I’m just brooding.”

“Oh, right,” she laughs. “And stop showing off.”

“Showing off? What could you possibly be referring to?”

“Oh, you know what you do. Twirling your sticks and playing the drums so well and _stuff_.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows at her, making a point of twirling his drumstick again. “What, this?”

“Yeah, that.”

He grins at her, twirling it and knocking it against the side of the snare drum. He tosses it into the air, flipping it and still managing to catch it in his fingers like it’s nothing. He gasps mockingly at her mesmerized expression, smirking before flipping it again.

She crosses her arms. “I could do that.”

“You think so? Alright.” He whirls the stick and holds it out in her direction, waiting for her to take it. “Show me.”

Their hands brush together as she pulls the drumstick from his fingers, holding it her own and examining it. It feels weird in her grasp, and it’s obvious she has no idea how to hold it or what to do with it. She can see him beaming at her out of the corner of her eye, probably laughing at her.

Holding the stick in between her knuckles, she takes a deep breath of concentration and attempts to twirl it. The moment it fumbles she scrambles to catch it, holding it with both hands and cradling it close to her chest.

Lucas cracks up, imitating the pout she gives him. “Aw, no. Well, nice try. Better give it back to the expert. Come on.”

He holds his hand out and gestures her forward. She glances down at his hand, turning her nose up and spinning away from him. “No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nope. It’s mine now. Twenty-two has inflated your ego too much. You need something to take you down a peg or two. This is it. The drumstick is mine now.”

“Give it back!”

Lucas climbs off his stool and comes up behind her, reaching around her to get the drumstick back. She squeals, holding it against her dear life and breaking into laughter when he wraps his arms around her. He lifts her by the waist with one arm and spins her around, using his other hand to attempt to pry her fingers from the drumstick.

As she’s reorienting herself when her feet touch the ground again, she catches Farkle exchange a weird look with Dave, who’s tuning his guitar with an amused grin on his face. She narrows her eyes at them, distracted enough that Lucas is able to wrench the stick from her grasp. “What’s that for, Farkle?”

He glances up at her, shaking his head slightly to get his bangs out of his line of vision. “What?”

“That look. I saw that look. What’s so funny?”

He shrugs, but his smug expression gives him away. “Nothing, Riley. Just chatting with my good friend Dave.”

Lucas pokes her cheek with the tip of the drumstick, flicking some hair off her shoulder with a smirk before wandering over to the drums again. Riley’s still preoccupied with the guitarists laughing at her expanse, but the moment does supply another shot of adrenaline. “Chatting? Without words?”

“Yes.”

“It’s called a tacit exchange,” Dave adds, blinking innocently at her.

She squints at him, placing her hands on her hips. “Dave!”

“Riley! You’re pretty.”

Although he’s just buttering her up, she can’t help but feel flattered at the compliment. “Aw, well, thank you.”

“Tacit exchanges are actually a rather intimate form of communication,” Smackle elaborates. “Being able to communicate something without saying any words. Of course, it’s only fitting that my musical genius boyfriend is able to share such a talent with his guitarist rather than his non-musically gifted girlfriend.”

“Hey,” Farkle says, hugging Smackle more securely on his lap. “I may be musically gifted, but you’ve got the leg up on me in every other regard.” He taps her on the nose affectionately. “Brainiac.”

“No, you brainiac!” she chuckles, bopping him back.

It’s weird to see Farkle be so soft and loving, but it’s definitely a welcome change. Riley can remember what he was like when she first met him—always brooding, constantly irritated, a lot less physically healthy, to say nothing of mentally and emotionally. She prefers seeing him this way, full of life and energy and enthusiasm.

As long as it doesn’t impact his musical brilliance, then she figures it’s for the best.

Zay and Maya reenter the studio, calling attention and announcing that they’re closing up shop early. The band immediately begins cleaning up their things, Farkle grabbing his guitar case and handing Dave his from the other side of the room.

Smackle accepts a hug from Riley as she gets ready to head out with Farkle, allowing him to drape his jacket over her shoulders and taking his hand the moment they’re ready to leave. “Happy birthday, Lucas. I hope it was a sufficiently enjoyable day.”

Lucas grins, still cleaning up around the drum kit. “I’d say it was sufficiently enjoyable, yeah.”

“Happy birthday, man. See you guys tomorrow,” Farkle says with an offhand wave, leading Smackle through the doors and disappearing into the hall.

Maya and Riley take Dave’s hands and help him to his feet. Riley frowns as he hobbles to the door with his guitar slung over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want some help, Dave?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he assures her. “Why don’t you help Lucas? Looks like he’s got a lot to clean up, or something.” He salutes Zay and Lucas, stepping halfway out the door. “Happy birthday, Lucas! When are you going to buy me a drink?”

“It’s been a year since I was legally able to do so, and I’m still not going to because you’re still underage.”

“As if that’s ever stopped me.” He rolls his eyes. “Worst older bro ever. Bye guys!”

Zay gives Lucas a bear hug, holding him tight. “I’ll see you later tonight. We’re gonna get so drunk. Like, so drunk. So drunk that we don’t remember the fact that we’re drunk. That drunk.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’re not drunk right now. Have you been drinking this whole session? Where’s the flask? Where are you hiding it?”

Zay gasps, exchanging a look of faux offense with Maya. “You believe him? Accusing me of such a thing. On his _birthday_.”

Maya shrugs on her jacket, hovering over Riley’s waiting on the arm of the couch. “You coming, Riles?”

“Oh, yeah, in a minute,” she says, walking over and joining her by the couch. “I’m just going to wait and make sure Lucas gets out okay. All locked up and all that.”

Maya gives her a strange look, the same sort of knowing gleam in her eye that Farkle had earlier. The smugness of her friends is both endearing and very irritating, especially when she has no idea what the hell they’re being so smug about. “Okay, mother hen. Sure thing.”

Zay and Maya head out together, shouting one more happy birthday greeting in Lucas’s direction before they shut the door behind them. Now alone, Riley motivates herself to get closer to him and help him tidy up the rest of the studio despite the sudden shyness that’s come over her.

They make general small talk while doing a general sweep of the studio, making sure all the amps are turned off and all equipment is stored properly. The longer they chat, the more comfortable Riley gets, and slowly the nervousness fades. It’s Lucas. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

“I’m serious,” she says with a laugh after Lucas waves off her compliment about his drumming. “Modesty is only attractive in moderation, you know. Just never accepting any compliments isn’t a very cute habit.”

“You telling me how to be attractive?” he asks with an entertained smirk, looking up at her from adjusting the snare drum.

She freezes, feeling suddenly caught. Managing to save herself from drowning, she shrugs casually and crosses her arms. “Well, someone better teach you. Might as well be me.”

“Oh! Ouch,” he laughs, hammering out a quick riff on the drums to accent her dig. She smiles proudly. “But really, I’m not being modest. I’m being honest. There’s a difference.”

“You’re an amazing drummer. One of the best. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“Yeah, you and my mother,” he jokes. She starts to argue further but he waves her off, heading over to the couch and plopping onto it. “Whatever. Drumming aside, it’ll be nice to get back into songwriting soon. I mean, assuming we decide to try another album without Charlie.”

She keeps her distance for a minute, examining him thoughtfully from her spot by the drums. “Don’t like the club circuit?”

“Actually, I do,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s nice to just be playing, like for a crowd, but a crowd that cares about the sound. A group that’s there for the music, not the hype. Farkle’s crowd, you know? Although it is a little sad to see Dave sitting on stage in his little chair when you know he wants to be up jamming out. He’s not capable of keeping still when he plays.”

Riley smiles, thinking of Dave on stage. He’s truly a joy to watch, as goofy and rambunctious as he is. “Well, he’ll be able to do it again soon. There will be other tours, I’m sure.”

“Maybe.” His expression grows more solemn, his eyes staring at the floor as he loses himself in thought. “All depends on whether we decide to stay together or not.”

“I’m sure you will.” She pads over to him, climbing onto the couch next to him and propping her head on her hand against the back of the couch. “You guys love playing together. And it’s obvious you have more songs to make. The creative energy is crazy, like, anyone can feel it when you’re all together. This isn’t the end of Mad Dogs. Trust me.”

He blinks at the floor, lifting his gaze to lock eyes with her. “You a psychic all the sudden?”

“Best in the business, baby,” she says confidently, trying and succeeding in getting a smile from him. He snickers, shaking his head and averting his gaze back to the floor.

“I guess.” He tilts his head back, gazing up at the ceiling instead and crossing his arms. She gets momentarily distracted in looking at his jaw line, but forces herself to refocus so she can pay attention to what he’s saying. “But it’s like, it’s not just up to us. Like, we can make as much music as we want, but if people don’t want to listen then a lot of the impact is lost. And so many people were in love with Charlie, that’s the reason they were here.”

Riley drops her jaw, earning a confused look from him. She nudges his shoulder, appalled. “That’s the reason you think all those people listen to your music? Just for Charlie?” He shrugs, muttering gibberish, so she just talks over him. “Lucas, people like your music for your _music_. And for the rest of you guys! I mean, Zay is so charming and enthusiastic and oh my God, when he sings? He has a gift for music, it’s enthralling.”

Lucas nods along, obviously in full agreement with this assessment. “Known that since we were kids.”

“Dave is just the cutest thing, so fun and lively and an amazing guitarist. Farkle’s got the whole tortured musical prodigy thing going, and that’s an act that goes a long way with fans. He’s got them all hooked on his façade, trust me. The more he pushes them away, the more enraptured they’ll become. Even with Smackle in the picture.” She sighs, struggling to come up with words to continue. “And you.”

“Me?” he says curiously, not looking at her but evidently intrigued but what she says next. He picks at one of the bandages on his fingers anxiously.

Part of her feels like she shouldn’t cross this bridge—not because she doesn’t know what to say, but because she has so much she could say and she’s not sure what’ll come out of her mouth if she does. But the longer she observes him sitting next to her, leaving him hanging, the greater this fluttery feeling in her chest grows and the harder it is to keep quiet.

“Of course, you,” she exhales, shaking her head in disbelief at his own doubt. “You’re the entire backbone of the band, both in the literal and figurative sense. I mean, you keep the beat and you provide the lyrics that give you all songs to make in the first place. You’re a _brilliant_ drummer, I mean, just brilliant. When you play, it’s mesmerizing. I can’t even properly describe how great your lyrics are.”

She thinks about shutting up, but the small, bashful smile on his lips is so cute that she doesn’t ever want to stop talking if he’ll keep smiling like that.

“And if you’re worried about people jumping ship for Charlie’s looks and personality, then you don’t have anything to worry about. All of you have all those things in spades. You’re so friendly, and encouraging. And charming.” She pauses to catch her breath, not sure why she feels so overwhelmed all the sudden. “And good-looking.”

“Wait, wait a minute, I’m sorry,” he says, holding up a hand and giving her a coy look. “What was that? Good-looking, is that what I heard?”

She rolls her eyes at him, intending to push his hand away but taking it in her own instead, dropping their joined fingers in her lap. She keeps her eyes on his face as his gaze drops to stare at their hands, his features a lot softer than they were a moment ago. Her thumb rubs gently against his knuckles, feeling the rough texture of his bandages against her fingertips.

“You’re so… good. And sweet.” she says softly. The longer she looks at him, the more she feels like her heart is going to jump out of her throat. Considering how hard it’s pounding all the sudden, it wouldn’t surprise her. All she can manage at this point is a whisper—she doesn’t feel like she has the breath for anything more. “How could I not like you?”

He lifts his head to lock eyes with her. She can’t read his expression, but some sort of message passes between them. This feeling of communication—a tacit exchange. She doesn’t know exactly what message they were trying to get across. It’s gone too fast.

Because the moment he lets his eyes meet hers, she leans forward and presses her lips to his.

Considering how much adrenaline is coursing through her at that exact moment, she’s genuinely surprised by how soft the kiss is. How gentle the contact is, how soft his lips are, how settled the room feels despite how crazy she feels at what she’s just done.

She has no idea if he is okay with any of this. She didn’t bother to consider his feelings on the situation. She didn’t even consider her own feelings. All of this is insane and she’s seconds from convincing herself to pull away when Lucas kisses her back, bringing his hand that’s not currently holding hers up to cup her face.

There’s a brief moment where he breaks apart, allowing them a chance to catch their breath. His lips brush lightly against hers before he moves forward to kiss her again, running his thumb against her cheek. She tightens her grip on his fingers and reaches up to take his forearm with her other hand, searching desperately for a sense of gravity amidst the shifting dynamic between them. It’s amazing, how his touch can make her feel so grounded.

Only she’s reminded that he knows that exact feeling. He wrote an entire song about it. He wrote an entire song about how someone’s hands make him feel as grounded and safe and important as she does in this very moment. And it’s not her.

Lucas has feelings for someone else. He doesn’t like her, and why on Earth would he? She’s just the weird, goofy friend of Maya who hangs around them all the time. He’s got his mystery muse, and she’s certainly not her.

No one would write such beautiful songs about Riley Matthews. She’s not kidding herself.

She forces herself to pull back from him, fighting for an ounce of self-control when he instinctively follows after her and almost drags her back into it. She has no idea what’s up with her, but she knows if she allows herself to get wrapped back up in him she’ll never be able to come back from it.

She bites her lip and allows him to press his forehead against hers, neither of them moving much further in any direction. Opening her eyes, she glances at Lucas in front of her—eyes closed, mouth parted open just slightly, catching his breath. Not daring to disturb the silence. Not letting go of her face or her hand. Just waiting, breathing, catching up.

Riley knows she has to break first. She started this mess, and if she doesn’t finish it they’ll be stuck there forever in this uncertain state.

“I should go,” she croaks, clearing her throat and backing off. Lucas lets her slip from his grasp, opening his eyes and blinking blankly at the couch between them. She licks her lips nervously, both loving and hating how they suddenly taste a little bit like him. “Busy day, tomorrow.”

He doesn’t stop her. He has no reason to, after all.

She grabs her coat and puts it on as quickly as possible, making it all the way to the door before she makes another mistake. She allows herself a look back at him over her shoulder, and the view of him alone on the couch—confused from her stupid decision—hurts in a way she wasn’t expecting.

“Happy birthday, Lucas,” she says softly, mustering a smile. He manages to return one, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

For an average, unimpressive girl, she sure can tear everything down in record time. Riley takes a deep breath and steps out of the studio, closing the door behind her and doing her absolute best not to do something stupid like cry.


End file.
